A Fair-ly Good Time

Oh, the puns one can make with “fair.”  A Fair Assessment, Fair Weather, etc.  Tony would probably have some better ones, as puns are his métier.  After nearly 6 years of marriage, I have heard them all a bunch of times.

 

The Skagit County Fair is exactly what you might expect: a whole bunch of 4-H, some rides, and some overpriced vendors.  Great for an hour or two of entertainment.  In the future, I imagine that Charles will spend lots more time on the rides, but for now, the animals hold his interest.

 

Oh. Em. Gee.  three-day-old piglets.  Thank God children don’t mature that quickly – those things were already running around like crazy, and poor mama pig looked pooped.

 

Have I mentioned that Charles, for all his Tasmanian-devil activity level, is pretty introverted?  He’s scared to try new things unless he has a member of his peer group along with him.  He’ll try anything with the preschool kids, who are mostly older than he is, or if he is the older kid and leading a younger friend by the hand.  But with us?  Or all alone?  He tucks his chin to his chest and backs away if he can.

 

Here he is not touching the calf and leaning heavily on dad:

 

 

And here he is not enjoying his pony ride:

 

Well, maybe he enjoyed it.  He spent the whole time with his head turned to the side and his hands in a death grip on the saddle horn, but if you ask him, he wants to do it again and again.

 

The part of the fair that needs no bravery?  Ice cream made with local milk.

 

Yeah, that’s the good stuff.

 

And here is Bubba, who is patiently awaiting confirmation from Guinness that he is the world’s largest bull at some 3000 lbs:

 

 

Charles might have thought we wanted him to share his ice cream with the big guy when we sent him over to pose.

 

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And the small one?  How does he fare (fair!) these days?   Well, Jamie sleeps.  And eats.  And sleeps more. 

 

He is in mortal danger of being over-loved by his big brother, who wants nothing more than to keep Jamie with him at all times.

 

 

 

Several times a day, heck, several times an hour, Charles says, “I love mine baby brother.”  It would melt my heart if he could control his strength such that his affection wasn’t so dangerous.  I have to be ever-watchful, and I can never leave James alone in a room when Charles is in the house because Charles will try to pick him up and cuddle him or feed him something.

 

I suppose it’s a damn sight better than those children who hate their newborn siblings and try to hurt them on purpose.  Can you imagine?